


Michael is a horny boy

by Just_sassy



Series: Slasher/Horror smut [1]
Category: Halloween (1978), Halloween Movies - All Media Types, Halloween- Fandom
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bondage, Cunnilingus, Dubious Consent, F/M, Fear, Fear of Death, Female Reader, Halloween, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Michael is a curious boy, Reader-Insert, Shameless Smut, Smut, Top Michael, Unplanned Pregnancy, Unprotected Sex, Vaginal Fingering, implied minor character death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-09-26 20:53:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20395993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Just_sassy/pseuds/Just_sassy
Summary: Michael Myers is full of lust, of many kinds. A series of shorts about a big, bad slasher slaking his various needs. Includes smut, a lot of smut, really it's just going to be smut.





	1. A Horrifyingly Happy Halloween

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at writing for this kind of story, so hopefully you all enjoy it.
> 
> A less than exciting Halloween night has you cursing your kid sister, but a surprise encounter has you screaming.

A Horrifyingly Happy Halloween

Michael x Reader

It was Halloween night, and you so didn’t want to here. People said the old Myers place was haunted and you were inclined to believe them. Too many strange and horrific things have happened there over the years. 

The only reason you were even there was your kid sister, Cassie, begged you to DD for her and a bunch of friends who wanted to go wild at the creepiest place in town. Then Cassie ditched at the last minute, leaving you stuck with a bunch of horny, drunk, late teen early twenty somethings, knowing I would never let them go off on their own and get themselves killed.

So here you are, sitting outside the infamous Myers place, starting to get a wee bit worried. You’d been there well over an hour now, and nothing. You hadn’t seen or heard anything from the house in over twenty minutes. The last thing you heard was a scream, but you were skeptical. It  _ was _ Halloween, these  _ were  _ Cassie’s friends, and they were probably either messing with you or having sex.

A curtain on the upper floor moves, and a cold feeling washes over you. Someone, or something, is watching you.

“Okay,” you mumble to yourself. “Enough is enough.”

You set down your ereader and pull out your phone. Calling Cassie, you order her to call her friends and tell them the party’s over and to get their asses out here.

A few minutes later, she calls her back. None of her friends answered.

“Sis, I’m freaking out. Kayla always answers, even if someone’s fucking her sideways.”

“Ugh,” you groan. “Thanks for the visual. I’ve got my taser, I’ll call you back once we’re back in the car.”

“Be careful,” she warns. “If you don’t get back to me in fifteen minutes, I’m calling the cops.”

“Good idea.”

You turn on your phone’s flashlight, grab your taser, and shove your keys in the pocket of your jeans. Your breath puffs out as you walk up the sidewalk.

The knob turns easier than you expected, considering the years of disuse. Of course the lights were out, and you had absolutely no desire to hunt through the house in the dark, just to find overly sexed up strangers. It was basically the worst Easter egg hunt ever.

“Kayla! Everybody else!” you called, hoping to startle them into rushing. “Time to go. No more disrespecting this house tonight. If you aren’t out here in ten minutes, you’re on your own.” You thought for a second before adding, “Also, if any serial killers, or Michael Myers, or ghosts, or anything are here, we’re sorry for intruding and will be out of your way as soon as possible.”

Silence is your only answer. True silence, and you felt the chill of eyes on you again.

“Kayla, you know I don’t bluff,” you couldn’t help the tremble in your voice. “Guys, stop fucking around.”

Still nothing.

_ Fuck.  _ You fight with yourself, but in the end, you walk farther into the fucking house, flashlight barely making a difference.

Thinking about it, you decide to start at the to and work your way down. You make your way up the stairs, never seeing the bodies spread throughout the first floor. The doors are all closed, making you pause. They’re all labeled, and you find yourself drawn to the one with Michael’s name.

Taking a deep breath, you turn the knob. The door swings open with a small squeak. The room itself is less than remarkable, but the sight of a well slept pallet has a shiver of fear shooting through you. Someone is living here, and you need to leave.

You spin, ready to sprint out of here and call the police, but you run smack dab in the middle of a huge chest. The force of the impact sends you sprawling. Pain radiates up your tailbone and your head cracks against the hard floor.

Your head aches, light and dark spots dance across your vision. Moaning, you bring your hand up to your head. Before it gets there, a solid weight settles on your hips, a huge hand landing on your throat. It begins to squeeze and your eyes fly open, catching on the person on top of you. An expressionless white mask, with empty black eyes stares back at you.

You claw at the arm pinning you down, thrashing as you desperately try to drag air into your lungs.

“Please,” you choke out on a sob. “Please, Michael.”

It’s too late, black overtaking your vision. You feel conscientiousness slipping away and pray this isn’t your end.

Pain explodes through you as you slowly wake. There's a pounding in your head like nothing you've ever felt. Struggling to move, you realize your hands are tied together. 

Suddenly, something grips the back of your head, dragging you into a sitting position, before manhandling you into what feels like a lap.

You manage to peel open your eyes in time to see a glass of water being pressed to your lips. Gingerly opening your mouth, you begin to gulp, downing more than half before the unknown hand takes it away. 

Another hand holds what looks like a couple of aspirin. You lean forward and carefully take the pills. The hand with the water returns, and you finish it off. Any other time you'd be completely freaking out, but you hurt so much you honestly couldn't think of anything else. 

"Thank you," you whisper, leaning back into the mystery person behind you. You don't know how long you sit like this, wrapped in a stranger's embrace. 

The previous night's events trickle back to you, causing you to grow more and more tense. You don't want to, but you have to be sure. Slowly turning your head, you come face to, well mask, with the person who nearly killed you. 

Your body wants to fight, scream, escape, do anything it takes to get to safety, but you force yourself to relax. You know one wrong move could mean your bloody and very painful death. 

Taking a deep breath, you ask, "Michael?"

His head tilts to one side, silent, not even his breathing is audible. 

Biting your trembling lower lip, you try again, "Michael, are you going to hurt me?"

His head tips the other way. 

"Would you please untie me?" You hold up your hands, but his head remains the same. Suddenly, he lifts you off him, dumping you back on the bed. With another piece of rope, he attaches you to a pipe in what used to be a wall. He then moves to the foot of the bed. Gripping your ankles, he pulls until you're spread eagle, securing you with previously placed ties. 

He stands there for who knows how long, just watching as you squirm, your fear nearly making you hyperventilate. Slowly, he crouches, grabbing something off the floor. Standing, he walks back toward your head. 

As he stands over you, you notice just what he picked up, the largest kitchen knife you've ever seen. 

Panic sets in. You struggle to free yourself, even as you squeeze your eyes shut, not wanting to watch whatever horror he was about to inflict. Your hips jerk and buck as he once again sits on you.

Your entire body tenses, preparing for a killing blow, but it never comes. 

What you do feel is your t-shirt being lifted away from your body, then something tearing through it. 

Your eyes fly open, in time to see him slicing through the arms. Reaching under you, he tosses the ruined garment away. 

_ Oh god,  _ this is far worse than you could have imagined. You want to fight, scream, anything to make him stop, but you also don't want to die. 

He moved down your body, shredding your jeans along his way. Before you know it, you're down to just your less than sexy everyday bra, and your far too sexy lace panties.

He kneels, staring at you as you beg, "Please, just let me go."

Unsurprisingly, he gives you no reaction. His gaze grows so hot and heavy you begin to squirm. It's been such a long time since your last sexy encounter, and having this much attention, even as scared as you are, is getting to you. Honestly, the fear was just amping up the heat.

You really want him to move, knowing a wet spot must be growing on your panties, and he must have a perfect vantage on it. 

As if reading your mind, he crouches down. Face glowing red, you pull your knees in as much as you can, and you never loved your thicker thighs more.

He doesn't like it. Growling, he drops the knife, grabs your thighs and forces them apart. His face is right there, so close, but still not nearly close enough. His breath puffs through the mask, tickling your panties. As much as you knew it was coming, the feeling caught you off guard. Your back arches are a startled moan escapes you. Against your will your hips lift to meet his mouth. 

His hands settle on your hips, forcing you to stay in place. You glance down in time to watch him deliberately run one finger down the seam of the lace, your head falls back. 

"Oh god," you moan into the silent room. This seems to spur him on. His finger grows more firm, seeking your reaction. You try to fight it, but he pauses, having found your clit.

His head tips to the side, obviously confused by the small nub. He begins to rub it with two fingers, one on each side.

There's no fighting your response, you buck and moan pleading for more without a word. While the lace was adding an interesting sensation, you want to feel him, and not through barriers. 

He seems to understand, and he moves to make it happen, but not in the way you're expecting. Gripping your panties, he tears them from your body with no effort. The cool air helps to calm your heated flesh, but it also draws all of your attention. Everything he does that much more intense. Just his breath is enough to drive you insane. 

"Fuck, oh fuck," you twist and pull at the rope on your wrist. 

A sudden finger presses deep inside you, gliding in with more than ease considering just how wet you are. He probes you slowly, carefully, exploring you, gaging your responses. 

On an upward twist, he stumbles across that secret place, the one you've only ever found with a special toy, the one no other person has even attempted to find. 

"Please," you beg, struggling to look down at him. "Please play with my clit."

He looks up at you, head tilted. Instinctively, you know he's confused. "The little nub, at the top of my slit."

Looking down, he raises his other hand to your clit, barely brushing it. "Harder, please."

He ignores you, instead adding another thick finger to your channel. 

"Oh, oh."

Your hips jerk and thrust, desperate for him to be deeper, for the contact on your clit to be firmer. He pulls away. 

"Fuck," you growl. "Quit teasing me. Play with me or fuck, just let me cum damn it!" You glare down at him before thinking better of it. "Please."

Standing, he shucks his clothes, obviously taking your deal. In just a few breaths time, he was naked except for the mask. 

He's ridiculously large and appears to be rock hard. Thick muscles wrap tight around his body. He honestly looks bigger naked. Even with as horny as you are, you know he's going to be a tight fit. 

"Please, Michael, I need you," you beg. Your bra is becoming more and more uncomfortable as your grow taut. "And if you wouldn't mind getting rid of the bra on your way, I would be grateful."

He moves over you, crawling up your body. He pauses, literally tearing the last piece of fabric from your body. 

Once your tits are free, he stops, head tilting. His hands settle on them, squeezing tighter and tighter. It's painful, but you can't help loving it. 

Your nipples grab his attention, so he starts pinching and rolling them. Your head falls back, a deep hum vibrating through you. You can't tell who's doing it, but it certainly adds to the sensations.

He pauses there, enjoying bringing them to peak hardness, then letting them relax, just to do it again. At the same time, a knee settles between yours, and you waste no time grinding against it. 

Eventually he moves on, settling over you fully, hips aligned. His head tips, seeing your reaction, gaging your readiness. 

"Please fuck me," you beg, biting your lower lip. 

With not even a moment of hesitation, he does just that. He slams into you, making you incredibly thankful for just how wet you were. It’s his hips turn to thrust and jerk, pounding deep inside you.

You begin to hear him sigh and groan, something you would never notice with someone else, but Michael might as well be screaming. 

Orgasm was right there, pleading to be let free, but he paid you no attention, too lost in his own pleasure. Thankfully, his pubic bone was pressed firm against your clit, with his hair and in a key sensation. 

Your climax explodes out of nowhere, causing a startled shriek to escape you. 

Michael doesn’t even pause, though his audible reactions grow louder. His movement starts to grow more erratic. With no warning, he cums, shooting deep inside, triggering another small tremor in your core.

He collapses on you, seeming to be completely exhausted. At the same time you wonder at the wisdom of letting him cum in you, considering you weren’t on birth control. Though you doubt he’d be willing to put a condom on now, seeing the damage was already done.

You both lay there, catching your breath and enjoying the afterglow. Your wrists begin to ache and you start to squirm.

Without warning, he pulls out of you. He reaches to the floor, picking up the knife. Fear shoots through you, but you force yourself to not react. If he’s going to kill you, you will not give him the satisfaction of seeing your fear. 

Instead of plunging the blade into your body as you were expecting, he slashes through the rope around your wrist. One hand rubs your fists, helping to return blood flow.

Once he is satisfied, he moves down, cutting through the remainders of the ties. Dropping the knife once again, he grips your ankles and flips you on to your stomach. He pulls you up to your knees, and you know it’s going to be a long night. 

  
  



	2. Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Weeks have passed since your encounter with Michael, and you can't stop thinking about him, though that might have something to do with the little present he left you.

Mine

Michael x Reader

Ten weeks later, you find yourself thinking about him, again. Wondering where he is, what he’s doing, if, maybe, just maybe, he’s thinking about you too. 

Shaking your head, you focus in on what the doctor’s telling you. “You’re baby’s developing normally, though I would recommend cutting down on your caffeine some more.”

You give her a sheepish smile, “Sorry, I’ve been having cravings.”

The rest of the appointment goes quickly, and as you drive away, you find yourself heading towards the place you’ve been dreaming of.

In the days after your were saved it was searched and checked, but there was no sign of your masked assailant. Both the cops and Cassie tried to get you to call what he did rape, but you couldn’t, wouldn’t. While it was the last thing you had expected when you walked up those stairs, you have no regrets when it comes to what happened between you. You honestly loved what he did to you, playing your body like nobody before.

Cassie’s pissed at you, wanting you to hate him as much as she does, wanting you to get rid of your baby. After all, he killed all those people, some of them her friends. Why can’t you see just how evil he is, how evil his spawn will be?

She doesn’t understand that you  _ can’t  _ see him like that. Selfish? Yes. Sadistic? Incredibly, but evil? No. 

Pulling up in front of the house, memories assault you. The sights, the smells, the feelings over take you. Time flies as the memories do.

Glancing up, you make up your mind. Clutching the letter you wrote earlier today, you walk up to the busted door. 

It looks even worse than the last time you were here. The windows are all broken, graffiti stains the walls and porch.

You move to open the door, but something stops you. What if he doesn’t remember you? What if he freaks out about the baby? What if he kills you?

Your hand falls to your belly, showing only the slightest bit. You want to see him again, desperately, but you want this baby that much more.  _ Still _ , you think,  _ he should know. _

Having thought ahead, you reach into your purse, pulling out a roll of tape. Two pieces of tape have the envelope secured. A tear falls as you give the paper a quick kiss.

You speed back to your car, turning for home as quick as possible. If you were to look back, you would see that the letter is gone, a garish white face with its pitch black eyes following your car’s journey as you drive away.

You don’t see him pull up the mask, you don’t see his eyes fly over the page, you don’t see his fist smash into the wall, and you don’t see the car that follows you home, never letting you out of his sight.

Pulling into your driveway, you roll your eyes at the guy who was tailgating you like a mother fucker. “Asshole,” you mutter, climbing from your car.

Wondering about what you just did, you’re completely oblivious to your surroundings. Second guessing the letter, again, you don’t realize he’s right behind you until he shoves you through the door you just unlocked. 

He slams the door as you stumble into your living room, catching yourself on your couch.

Before you can catch your bearings, he tosses you on the couch. Pinning you there, one hand rests against your throat, the other cradling your slightly swelling stomach. 

"Michael," a sob escapes you as you see "his" face again for the first time. 

The hand on your neck drifts up to your cheek, his head tipping at the display. 

Without thinking, you throw your arms around him and pull, more lifting yourself up than dragging him to you. As soon as you can, you bury your face in his neck, crawl into his lap, and let the tears you've desperately been holding at bay burst from you. 

He squeezes you back, though not nearly as hard as you're squeezing him. His mask glides across your neck, absorbing as much of you as he can. 

As the tears dry, you pull back. Cupping his face, you pull him in for a kiss. It's every bit as awkward as one would expect, and the best kiss of you life. Your tongues duel through the plastic for what feels like forever. 

His hands trace up and down your back, until one hand winds through your hair, pulling your head back. You lick your lips, not wanting to lose the taste of him. 

The other finds your belly again. You know what he wants, so you untangle yourself before standing. His grip tightens, a barely audible growl escaping him.

Cupping his cheek, you reassure, "It's okay. I have something for you."

Reluctantly, he lets you up, and you sprint to your kitchen. You carefully pull the two pictures from the fridge and sprint back, crawling back into his lap. 

"Here," you hand him the black polaroid. "It's the ultrasound. I made sure to grab you one."

He stares at it for a few minutes before you realize he has no idea what he's looking at. 

You start pointing out the features. "This is their head, that's their arm and wrist, and this right here, is their heart. They're about this big right now," you show him about two inches. 

Then you remember, "Oh yeah." You jump up again, this time heading for your TV. "I also got a video."

Since you've been watching it a couple times a day, it's still in the machine. You get it queued up and settle in against him. 

A fast, deep whoop-whoop fills the room, and you hear his breath catch as the video starts. The baby dances and moves, while the doctor took notes. Labels flash across the screen and you do the best to explain what they mean. 

As the video ends, you turn off the TV and turn to him. 

Everything stills, waiting for his response, but Michael isn't known for his enigmatic nature for nothing. After what feels like hours, you break, "Well? What are you thinking?"

Instead of answering, he stands, staring down at you. 

A shriek escapes you as you find yourself thrown over his shoulder, quickly stalking up your stairs. He has no trouble finding your bedroom, gently dropping you on bed.

Wasting no time, he has you naked. Before you can ask, he drops onto you, his face pressed against your belly. 

"Um, Michael," you start, but he lets out a low growl, cutting you off. 

He climbs off you, grabbing your shirt. Your eyes widen as he tears it into strips.

"Wha-" a piece is wound around your eyes, before you find yourself beneath him again. Butterflies flutter as you feel the skin on his face for the first time. Unable to stop yourself, you run your fingers through his hair. He stiffens, but doesn’t stop you. 

You lay there for hours, darkness falling even through your makeshift blindfold. There’s not a single thing in the whole world that could get you to leave this spot.

The only thing that could possibly get you going is hunger, and at that moment your stomach let out a vicious growl, completely embarrassing you.

“Michael,” you groan. “I think the baby wants food.”

He sighs, but pulls himself off you. In no time, you’re dressed, calling for your usual pizza, hoping he’ll be okay with it.

You settle back into the couch, white noise of a movie playing in the background. Sitting there, you just enjoy his presence. Looking deep into his eyes, you finally ask, “Are you okay with this? I know it isn’t something you were planning on.” 

Your eyes widen as you realize how that sounds, “Not that I did.”

No response. 

It’s not really surprising, but at this moment, it hurts, it hurts so much more than you could have imagined. You’re about to unload on him when the doorbell rings.

Sighing, you go pay for and grab the food, placing it on the table.

“Diner’s here,” you quietly tell him, appetite gone. 

Your emotions have been all over the place lately, and him just acting like himself set you off. You hated it. 

Today had already gone so much better than you could have hoped, but your body was giving logic the middle finger.

You’re about to run to the bathroom, hoping to calm down a little, when you run smack dab into Michael’s chest and a sob escapes you. You try to play it off, but he won’t let you. 

He forces you to eat and won’t let you go until you tell him what’s wrong.

You want to fight it, deny your pain, but his steady quiet aura draws it from you. All your grief from the last ten weeks bubbles and pours from you. Cassie, your less than stellar health insurance, worry about being a single mother. Your growing feelings for a known killer.

He holds you as all the darkness pours from your soul. As the tears slow and dry, he carries you up to your room. Placing you on the bed, gently this time, he makes sure you’re comfortable.

Once he’s sure you’re okay, he mimes a pen and paper. You hand him a notebook from the floor and a pen from your bedside table.

_ Repeat all questions.  _ A slight flush overtakes you at his bluntness, and that his penmanship is better than yours.

Still, you do as he asks, “Okay, first, what are your thoughts on the baby?” Thinking on it more, you add, “Actually, that’s the most important, if I need to know more, I’ll ask.”

_ I want it. That’s MY baby. _

Giggling softly, you roll your eyes, “ _ Our  _ baby.”

In the blink of an eye, you find yourself pinned to the bed, his hands rending the clothes from your body, again. You’re suddenly naked beneath him, his powerful figure looming almost menacingly over you.

Arousal surges through you, the smallest hint of fear making it that much sweeter.

Wasting no time, he strips, erection bouncing free the moment it can. Your mouth waters, wanting nothing more than to take it deep. What you want will have to wait though, he has plans for you.

Gripping your hips, he flips you over then pulls you to your hands and knees. Once he has you where he wants you, you feel his hot breath against your exposed pussy. If you were to turn and look you know you would see his face, but as much as you were trusting him not hurt you, he was trusting you, and there’s no way you are going to break that trust.

Burying your face in your pillow, a scream rips through you as he plunges his tongue deep inside you. He shocks you with his skill, this tongue playing your body like it’s an instrument only he’s mastered.

Bouncing between short, powerful sucks and long, tender licks, your clit is a hard little pebble. One finger spreads through your slickness, slowly massaging at your entrance. He’s not rushing this time, obviously planning to explore you so thoroughly, he could draw a map directly to all your pleasure.

You want to rock back into him, but hold yourself back, wanting him to have his fun, not that it’s a hardship. Then he surprises you.

He slips his finger out of you, pressing against the tight ring of muscles at your rosette.

“Michael!” you squeal, your shock allowing it to slide in. It’s like nothing you’ve ever felt , bringing your climax from a distant dream to right here. As he starts fucking it into you, he adds another finger to your pussy, filling you with a completely new and unique sensation. Your hands dig into the blanket, and there’s no more keeping your hips still.

He starts pistoning in and out, latched on to your clit, sucking hard while his tongue lashes.

You detonate, every muscle in your body clenching down, as an earth shattering orgasm tears through you.

Tremors still coursing, you feel his hands on your hips, seconds before he slams deep, stealing what little breath you still have. He sets a pace specifically designed to make you feel dominated, owned. One hand tangles in your hair, the other splays across your stomach.

“Mine,” he growls, catching you completely off guard. Using your hair, he pulls you up to him, “Mine.” Moving your head to the side, he licks your neck, still pounding away. “Mine!” His teeth dig in, setting off an orgasm you have no way of preparing for.

“Michael!”

His low growl vibrates through you, as he cums deep inside. 

You melt into him. Making sure your eyes stay shut, you turn your head, searching for his lips. “Please,” you beg, “please kiss me.” 

He actually complies, surprising you with how soft and tender his lips are. Laying out, you stay like that for some time, loving the connection.

Slowly drifting off, you snuggle into his side, “I really missed you, and I’m really glad you’re here.”

He breaths in your scent, before you hear him whisper, “Mine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad to see people seem to be enjoying the story, though I have to admit, I wasn't planning on doing another chapter for this just yet, but plot bunnies are a bitch.
> 
> Also, I think Michael is pretty OOC here, but hopefully you still liked it.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I have to be honest, I really hate horror movies, but god damn do they get me hot.


End file.
